


Deliberate and Afraid of Nothing

by Siriuslytyrell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Political Campaigns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-03-30 21:51:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriuslytyrell/pseuds/Siriuslytyrell
Summary: Sansa Stark was between jobs and between relationships when Daenerys Targaryen's campaign was dropped in her lap with a big shiny bow and a charming laugh. Now she's balancing family relationships, relationships of family members, a new job, and a rapidly snowballing crush on a fiance director with chestnut brown curls.





	1. June 13th

THE SORDID PAST OF DAENERYS TARGARYEN: SECRET LOVER TELLS ALL  
~We’re all familiar with presidential candidate Daenerys Targaryen’s signature violet eyes and Instagram full of her three komodo dragons, but campaign communications director Jorah Mormont has come forward with new allegations about the time before Targaryen stepped into the public eye once held so enraptured by her father’s corruption scandal 30 years ago.

“I was a photographer on the Dothraki reservation, just east of King’s Landing, when I met Daenerys, or Dany as she is to me,” Mormont begins in an exclusive interview with Westerosi Weekly. “She was so young then, so innocent with her big violet eyes and hope for her future. Or at least, that’s what I thought at first.”~

Sansa Stark skimmed the rest of the article as bile rose in the back of her throat. Her brother had gotten involved in Daenerys’ campaign when it was still six people working out of her apartment and while the girl wasn’t too much older than herself, she carried herself with a sense of confidence and power that Sansa had always admired. A young widow, there was a fire in Daenerys that the bullshit article twisted into something of seduction and trickery. Gods, that poor girl. Robb had mentioned Jorah Mormont a couple of times since he’d started working as the political director of the campaign, but always in a joking manner as he described the way Mormont mooned over Daenerys. And primaries were in two days, Sansa remembered the utter chaos on the elections she’d volunteered with in college as any form of election approached. 

With that in mind, Sansa drained the last of her coffee and got dressed hurriedly with the intention of stopping for coffee on her way to the campaign office. She walked into a hurricane of people and flyers and made a beeline for the bright red hair at what she assumed to be Robb’s desk, tucked into a corner away from the bulk of the madness. The brother in question was typing furiously when she walked up, so Sansa stood in front of his desk, extra latte in hand. After a minute, Robb finally looked up with a grimace. 

“I take it you saw the article?” he asked, the stress evident in his voice. Sansa raised an eyebrow in response and offered him the coffee. Robb nodded. “Yeah. It’s not good.” He gestured towards a swivel chair to the left of his desk. “You can sit, if you want.” 

Sansa took the proffered seat as she looked around. “I know I haven’t been in here yet, but I imagine it isn’t usually like this.”

“Not quite. I’ve been here since 5 and I have yet to get through half of the emails I’ve gotten since the first article went out. And, of course, every fucking news channel is running clips of the interview he did,” Robb gestured towards his muted laptop, where Jorah Mormont’s overeager smile gleamed at her. “They’ve clearly been holding onto this until close enough to the primaries that there’s not a lot we can do. And, of course, it doesn’t help that, as our communications director apparently got fed up with the candidate not wanting to sleep with him, we don’t have anyone dealing with the comms crisis that he-” Robb stopped with a grimace as something slammed into the office window behind him.

“You saved me?!” Daenerys shrieked, her voice echoing through the glass she’d just thrown notebook of some sort at. “My husband died and I held his people together until they were stable enough to stand on their own and then I got out and did what I needed to do for me. I let you stick around because I valued your advice and I thought you supported me. Apparently, all you’ve ever done is work against me and lie to my godsdamned face!” The girl’s face was almost red, a stark contrast to her silver hair. The door to Daenerys’ office opened, then, and a dark haired woman slipped inside. 

“That’s Missandei,” Robb explained, “Campaign manager. She needs to get him out of here.” Sansa couldn’t help but agree. The campaign needed to go into full damage control-mode and they couldn’t do that when ground zero was standing in the middle of the office. 

All of a sudden, a wave of chestnut brown hair was between Sansa and her eldest brother. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need you to look at this,” a clear voice demanded. Robb straightened p, taking the paper the woman standing there was offering him. The woman with gorgeous brown eyes and form fitting dress that played to all of her assets who was leaning against the desk less than six inches away. 

“Shit,” Robb swore, running a hand through his red curls. “How are we losing this many endorsements? We haven’t even gotten a real statement out yet!”

“That’s the problem,” the woman groaned. “No one can come up with a decent statement, they all come out either pissed off or like we’re trying to hide something. It’s not like we can just say ‘Jorah Mormont is a jealous dick who got tired of waiting for a presidential candidate to lower her standards to his level.” Sansa chuckled, but then a light went off in her head. 

“But why not?” The woman turned to look at her with an eyebrow raised. 

“What?”

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but why can’t you say that? Why can’t you call this out for the vindictive, personal attack that it is and point everyone towards the amazing work that Daenerys has done for both the Dothraki population and women in general who have been targeted in situations just like this. This might be high profile, but that doesn’t make it less of a personal issue. You don’t have to strip all of the personality out of it,” Sansa said in a rush, barely pausing for a breath. The woman turned to Robb. 

“Who the hell is this and can I hire her?” she asked. Robb grinned. 

“Margaery Tyrell, meet Sansa Stark. Sansa, this is our finance director and fundraising goddess, Margaery,” he introduced. Margaery smiled prettily down at her, just as Daenerys’ office door opened with a bang and Jorah Mormont himself was ushered out by Missandei and a man Sansa had never seen before. He didn’t carry himself like someone who had just been fired, but the hush in the previously chaotic room was telling. Margaery cleared her throat as the front door closed behind Mormont and his escort. 

“Anyway. It’s a pleasure. And I’m being serious, can you actually draft a statement basically saying exactly what you just did?” Sansa looked at Robb, who just shrugged at her. 

“Why not? It’s not like you have anything better to do, right?” Sansa rolled her eyes. She loved her family. 

“Move, then. Let me use your desk.” Sansa stepped carefully around Margaery to nudge Robb out of his chair and take his place. She looked up at the other girl with a nervous smile and pushed all of her energy into typing while the two campaign staffers stepped away to discuss other things. 

Twenty minutes later, Sansa called them back over. “This what you wanted?” she asked, eyes flitting from Robb to Margaery. Margaery let out a delighted laugh. 

“This is amazing! How do you know how to do this?”

“I have a masters in mass communication with a concentration in public relations from King’s Landing University. And I was a comms intern with my dad’s last Northern rep campaign back in high school and I volunteered with a couple of others in college,” Sansa rambled off. Margaery was practically glowing.

“I need to talk to Missandei, but I’m hiring you. Right now. I’ll get Brienne or someone to draw up the papers and you start tomorrow. Okay?” Sansa just blinked at her until Robb kicked his chair that she was still sitting in. 

“Um, yes. Yeah, of course! I’d love to. I’m not sure I have the experience to be an actual communications director, is the only thing,” Sansa protested. Margaery rolled her eyes and gestured towards the laptop. 

“As long as you can write like this, my dear, I don’t really care. Are you in?” Sansa couldn’t help but smile back at that face.

“It would be an honor.” Margaery smiled in satisfaction before turning and walking away, heels clicking against the floor. Sansa turned to look at her brother. “What the hell?” she laughed, dropping her head into her hands. 

“I believe we’ve solved your unemployment problem.” Sansa huffed into her hands, just peeking through enough to watch Margaery talk to a tall blonde woman. God, those legs. Sansa snapped herself back into reality and realized the massive responsibility she had just signed up for. 

“Holy shit.”


	2. June 14th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa steps into her role as the Daenerys Targaryen campaign communications director with a little stress, a lot of chaos, and the beginnings of a mildly distracting crush. Oh, and Arya shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this is so late. I had my wisdom teeth taken out and it knocked me on my ass a little more than anticipated. The next chapter should be out in significantly less than a week and a half if all goes according to plan.

TARGARYEN CAMPAIGN MAKES SHOCKING RECOVERY  
~After the shocking interviews given yesterday by former Targaryen communications director Jorah Mormont, very few believed that Daenerys Targaryen had any hope of remaining on equal footing with Oberyn Martell as primary day arrived. To our surprise, after a late afternoon press conference in which Targaryen appeared with grace and heart, spinning a detailed account of her time among the Dothraki and the work she has done in the past decade to improve conditions on the Dothraki reservation, the polls are still in her favor. According to the campaign social media announcements, this is largely due to Sansa Stark, daughter of Northern representative Eddard Stark and sister of current Targaryen political director Robb Stark, who has stepped into Mormont’s vacated position. ~

Bran (5:43am): “Have you seen this?”  
Bran(5:47am): “Dude you’re apparently all liberal Twitter wants to talk about”  
Bran (5:56am): “Wake uppppp”  
Bran (5:56am): “There’s a whole Twitter account dedicated to your cardigan”  
Bran (6:03am): “Does Robb know you’re apparently the saving grace of his campaign?”

Sansa rolled over with a groan to pick up her incessantly buzzing phone. Curse Bran with his freakishly early workouts and Gen Z-level Internet obsession. Her alarm wasn’t set to go off for another 10 minutes. She blearily clicked through the article that she’d been sent, reaching for her glasses off the nightstand with her other hand. What the fuck? She knew that the Internet was obsessed with almost everything about Daenerys, but this was excessive. It took a team of people on image clean up yesterday to keep her anywhere near Oberyn Martell, especially when she refused to point out any of Oberyn’s past indiscretions. Which Sansa respected, although it was sure to make her job more difficult throughout the summer. Especially if Cersei Lannister-formerly-Baratheon beats out her ex-husband for the Western Party Primary. That woman is a snake in golden clothing.

Sansa (6:06am): “Why couldn’t this have waited until after sunrise?” No response. Of course. Bran would respond sometime when he got bored in his science class later in the day. Sansa rolled her eyes and went about getting ready for her first official day of work. She flipped through her closet, idly running through the events of the previous day for approximately the eighteenth time. She’d called Robb as soon as she knew he was home, followed by a slightly less panicked phone call to her mother. Sansa Stark did not make hurried commitments and, although she knew that that was how campaigns operated, the panic had sunk in before she’d completely made it out of headquarters. And, of course, permeating throughout all of this was gorgeous brown curls and a clear, bright laugh. Gods. 

Sansa made it to HQ just as the Sept bells chimed 7:30 from down the block. Compared to the flurry of activity, the building was practically deserted. “Hello?” she called, tucking her hair behind her ear. The door to the conference room in the back opened and Margaery’s head poked out, grinning brighly. 

“Sansa! Come join us, we were just getting started!” Sansa flushed and hurried towards the beckoning woman. 

“I’m sorry I’m late, Robb said 7:30 and I-”

“You’re not late, dear. Everyone just tends to funnel in here for coffee before morning debrief actually starts,” Margaery soothed. “And some of us needed to get out and about before polls opened, but you don’t need to worry about that yet.” Sansa smiled sheepishly at her and followed her into the room, where the long conference table was almost completely surrounded by a mixture of complete strangers, people she vaguely remembered from political events throughout her life, and family friends. She took the seat between Margaery and Myrcella Baratheon, Robb’s newest girlfriend. It had been a whole scandal when Myrcella joined the campaign as the legal advisor, fresh out of law school and immediately at odds with both of her parents, fighting for the Western party nomination. 

Missandei smiled at her from her chair at the head of the table. “For those who haven’t met her, this is our saving grace and new comms director, Sansa Stark,” she introduced. Sansa smiled at everyone and, other than a dark haired man who was typing furiously on his tablet, they all at least acknowledged her with a nod. “I believe you met our finance and fundraising director, Margaery, yesterday, and of course you know Robb and Myrcella. Podrick Payne is our field director,” Missandei continued. That explained why the man had barely looked up since her arrival. Primary election day would mean a lot of voter outreach. 

“Tyrion is our campaign treasurer and Renly is our new media director,” she finished, gesturing towards each man respectively. “We’re missing Brienne, the office manager, who’s out with Dany for the morning, and Gendry, our tech guru, who is down in the basement somewhere. Everyone else is important, of course, but those are the names you probably need to know sooner rather than later. And, of course, all of this, including phone numbers, emails, and other reminders is in a binder on your desk, which someone will show you after the meeting.” 

Sansa blinked at her. A lot of words and a lot of ‘of course.’ Robb smirked at her from across the table and Sansa snapped into reality. She was a Stark, and it wasn’t as if she was a stranger to the fast pace of campaign-life. She’d figure it out as she went. 

The meeting went by in a blur of assignments, updates, and references to people and projects that Sansa had never heard of. Before she knew it, everyone was standing with a final reminder to keep track of any and all supplies or groceries that they would need the next week. Missandei was out the door in a second, phone in one hand and coffee clutched tightly in the other. Sansa looked at Robb, who was deep in conversation with Tyrion Lannister as they stood up from the table. No help there. She could probably wander the building and find the most empty looking desk, but odds are there were other things she needed to be doing. Margaery must have recognized the look on her face and, either out of pity, kindness, or both, she swept over to Sansa’s side, taking her by the elbow and leading her out into the bullpen. Gods, she smelled like flowers, Sansa couldn’t help but notice. 

“Desk, Binder of Very Important Information, complementary Targaryen coffee mug, and various odds and ends that Jorah left behind and Brienne failed to clear off,” Margaery listed, a wrinkle in her lip at the mention of Jorah Mormont that was gone in an instant. “This computer should have all of our previous announcements and press-related things, if you want to reference them, but we’re not trying to fool anybody, so follow whatever you think sounds right. Missandei would be telling you all of this, but, you know, election day! And anyway, I offered.” Margaery Tyrell’s smile could absolutely melt the coldest of hearts. Sansa could barely breathe. Luckily, a phone rang across the room and Margery’s head snapped up. “Oh! That’s me. I better get that. For now, just answer any calls and emails and welcome to the team!” she called, already walking briskly towards the ringing phone. 

Sansa had barely sat down at her desk when the phone sitting on it rang. From there, she spent hours answering questions, emailing statements, and cross referencing everything the Targaryen campaign had ever said about anything. People came in and out of the building with baffling frequency, brandishing flyers and shouting for phone numbers and constituent addresses. It was 2:00 before the candidate herself walked in, platinum hair braided back with sunglasses balanced carefully on top. Before Sansa could react, Daenerys Targaryen was standing in front of her desk, smiling warmly. 

“Sansa Stark,” Daenerys greeted. “Thank you so much for agreeing to do this on such short notice.” Sansa stood up hastily. 

“Of course, Ms. Targaryen. I’m so excited to be involved and I really appreciate this opportunity!” she replied, painfully aware of the borderline gushing. For all that she hadn’t planned on joining a campaign the day before primaries, she had been following Daenerys and the woman had done amazing things in a reasonably short career. Daenerys laughed.

“Call me Daenerys, please. I imagine we’ll be getting to know each other pretty well over the next few months.” Sansa smiled at that. 

“Yes ma’am.” Daenerys opened her mouth, only to be cut off by a very tall blonde woman that Sansa knew as Brienne Tarth, an old friend of her mother’s. 

“Ma’am, we need to be going if you want to knock on 20 more doors in flea bottom before your next interview,” Brienne warned. Daenerys rolled her eyes, but there was warmth behind the action. 

“Without Brienne, I do not believe I would make it to my own funeral on time,” she teased. Brienne turned a bright shade of red that made Sansa want to giggle like she would have in high school. She suppressed the urge, reminded too sharply of how awful she was back then. Back when she thought that the sun rose and set in Joffrey Baratheon’s royal ass. Thank the gods she’d since realized that people are, in general, far better than she ever wanted to give them credit for and men are, in general, far less attractive than she tried to force herself to believe they were. 

Not long after Daenerys’ departure, an even more familiar face opened the headquarters door. Arya Stark scanned the room as she walked away from either of her siblings’ desks and towards a door on the far wall, eyes landing on Sansa. A raised eyebrow was the only indication of surprise as she turned on her heel and strode towards Sansa. “What the fuck are you doing here? I came to ask Robb something,” she demanded. Sansa scoffed. 

“Working. Or haven’t you spoken to anyone in our family in the last, oh, 24 hours?” she teased. Arya rolled her eyes. 

“I’ve been busy.” Sansa nodded mock-seriously. 

“Ah, yes. The job that no one seems to know about, the friends that no one’s met, and the boy that Bran seems to think you’re hiding.” Arya’s face would have betrayed no emotion to anyone who didn’t know her as well as her sister. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Arya. You’re an adult. The only reason Bran even brought it up is because you’ve apparently been especially avoidant when it comes to your personal life and that usually means something’s going on. If it’s just that your life is boring or that you don’t want any of us to know what you’re doing with those dance and exercise science degrees, that’s fine. Just show up to family dinners more and we won’t speculate,” Sansa scolded. Family dinners were a biweekly event that Arya managed to skip at least three times over the last two months. As in, she’d shown up once. While Sansa was past letting every little thing Arya did to spite their parents bother her, it was getting ridiculous. 

“I’ve talked to Mum. Don’t worry about it,” Arya defended. Sansa sighed. 

“Sure. Fine. What did you want to ask Robb? Maybe I can answer you, or he should be back in the next couple of hours.” Arya looked down at her ratty sneakers. 

“Oh. Nothing. I mean, I can just text him. Or I’ll see him at some point later. I would assume,” she floundered. Sansa almost laughed. For all the lying Arya seemed to do, she wasn’t very good at it. 

“Uh huh. Sure. Are you coming to dinner on Sunday?”

“I guess, sure.” With that, Arya was out the door with no excuse or explanation. Sansa laughed to herself and read through the email she had been sending to a reporter with the King’s Landing Times trying desperately to make up for being responsible for publishing the whole Jorah Mormont fiasco. 

An hour later, Sansa was pulled out of her thoughts by Margaery leaning against her desk, curls now pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. “Darling, I do not believe I’ve seen you leave this desk all day. Which would mean you have not eaten or voted, correct?” Sansa could feel her face flush and cursed her pale skin. 

“Um, actually, I was originally going to be out of town this week, so I voted absentee. But, I haven’t eaten, I completely let the day get away from me.” Food had not been at the top of her priority list when she logged into the comms director email and saw the, quite frankly, terrifying number of notifications. 

“That happens a lot around here. Everyone’s pretty much here until they need to go out on the last push for those with the traditional 9 to 5 so we’re ordering a massive amount of pizza to keep us going until results tonight. Any requests?” Sansa shook her head. 

“I’m pretty easy to please.” Margaery smirked. 

“Good to know. It’ll be here in 45 minutes or so.” Sansa felt her face go even redder as Margaery walked away, hips swaying in a completely distracting way. 

The rest of the afternoon passed in much the same way the morning had, in a blur with the added bonus of deliciously cheesy pizza. Before Sansa could quite register it, everyone had gathered towards the giant tv set up in one corner of the room, perched on desks and various chairs pulled from around the room. Sansa stood between Robb, his arm wrapped casually around Myrcella’s waist, she noted with a smile, and Podrick, who looked about ready to fall asleep on his feet. She couldn’t help but notice Margaery sitting cross legged on the floor beside a man who looked so much like her it was almost eerie, who himself was leaning against the legs of Renly Baratheon. That would be Loras, then, Margaery’s youngest brother. She’d only taken a small break to Google the Tyrell family while she ate her pizza. 

The result poured in and it became clear pretty early on that Daenerys was pretty safe in her nomination. The bigger question was whether she’d be facing Cersei Lannister or Robert Baratheon, as the incumbent’s hold on the Western nomination was rapidly sliding away from him. Sansa wasn’t too surprised, as much as her father loved Robert Baratheon like a brother, his military prestige just wasn’t enough to cover his question drinking habits. Or dating habits. Especially after the bitter divorce Robert and Cersei had gone through when Sansa was in high school. Without the Lannisters to hold him together, she was mildly surprised that Robert had held on to the presidency as long as he had. And more than mildly surprised that Cersei decided to forcibly yank it from him. 

It was past midnight, over an hour after Oberyn Martell had called to congratulate the Southern candidate and promise her the full might of his support, when Robert Baratheon was forced to concede the nomination to his ex-wife. It wasn’t quite clear what Sansa’s coworkers had wanted to happen, but there was an unmistakable air of determination as they began to gather purses and pizza boxes. Daenerys Targaryen could change the world, if only they could get her in the right place to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please comment! It is genuinely what gives me the encouragement to update when I should probably go to bed and reminds me that I haven't actually posted the chapter that I dreamed about posting in a post-surgery drug-induced haze. So comment! I suck about replying but I promise I see every one and I love you for it. If you want a response, message me on Tumblr! I'll see those too and actually get back to you!


	3. July 1st

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flirting, fundraisers, and a clueless Sansa Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things did not, in fact, go according to plan, but I'm back in school and will be putting this out as soon as I finish chapters. I'm not going to try to keep to a schedule, but I am determined to finish this without sacrificing my standards.

YOUR GUIDE TO THE 2020 WESTEROSI PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATES  
~Following the tumultuous election two weeks ago, the Lannister and Targaryen campaigns have officially settled in for the long haul. If you got lost in the hurricane of disillusioned communications directors and bitter ex-spouses, we’re here to help.~

Sansa skimmed through the Buzzfeed article Arya had sent her with a smile. It was baffling to see how hard more liberal news outlets had to try to remain unbiased when faced with a Western candidate like Cersei. She pulled open the door to campaign headquarters with one hand, balancing her coffee and not looking up from her phone as she headed back towards the staff meeting in the back. Only half of the campaign staff had arrived, so Sansa secured her seat beside Robb and across from Margaery. 

The last couple of weeks had been nothing short of amazing. Sansa had forgotten how intense the thrill of campaign life is, and that, coupled with a butterfly-inflicting crush on the finance director and a better relationship with her big brother than she’d had in years, lead to a very happy and very exhausted Sansa Stark. Margaery smiled at her across the table and Sansa could feel her cheeks go pink. “Good morning, Sansa!” she chirped. 

“Morning!” Sansa smiled back, quickly distracted by her chiming phone. 

Mom (7:23am): Good morning, darling. Can you call me when you get a chance? I just want to run a few things by you.   
Sansa (7:24am): Sure, I’ll call after this meeting. Is something wrong?  
Mom (7:27am): No, just wanted to chat about something. 

Communication in the Stark family tended to go through six levels of coordination before anyone knew anything, but the fact that Robb hadn’t said anything probably just lead to a question about Catelyn’s writing or something Rickon did. The announcement that the family would be relocating to King’s Landing during Sansa’s second year of undergrad hadn’t come as much of a surprise, but with three siblings still living with their parents and a house in which sound travelled well, they had been whispering about it for months. After all, Ned had been spending more and more time in his King’s Landing office both as a Northern representative and as President Baratheon’s best friend. Even with modern technology making it possible to get pretty much anywhere in the country, do what you need to do, and get home before nightfall, the commute had clearly been taxing on Sansa’s father. 

Having the whole family relatively local was a relief and Sansa always looked forward to family events and dinners. And it gave her dog, Lady, time with her own siblings, the huskies that Sansa’s siblings had adopted at the same time. 

With thoughts of her family lingering, Missandei started the meeting and Sansa pulled out her notes on upcoming fundraisers and volunteer outreach ideas. 

The days stretched on in a blur of emails and Word documents until it was Friday night and Sansa was one of the only people left in the office. She was pulled from a draft of Daenerys’ speech for a church-organized fundraiser the next afternoon by a tall brunette leaning against her desk. “Am I interrupting something?” Sansa looked up at Margaery’s slight grin. 

“Not at all. What’s up?” she answered. Margaery groaned in response, pulling Myrcella’s recently abandoned chair up beside Sansa’s desk. 

“Can you read this? One of the ladies in charge of this church function tomorrow has suddenly decided that she has issues with Dany’s lack of religion and I hoped, since I know the Starks follow the old gods, not the Seven, you’d have a different perspective on bridging the gap between the more, shall we say, traditional believers, and, well, the rest of us sane people.” Sansa snorted. 

“I have never met someone willing to fight over the Seven who isn’t some kind of crazy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Like, my mom follows the Seven. But, she’s always been really supportive of my siblings and I choosing what we believe.” Margaery smiled softly at that.

“So, can you tell me whether I actually sound like I want to throttle this woman and if I do, fix it? Pretty please?” Sansa held out her hand.

“Give it. Although if I’m going to be doing your job, I believe I deserve coffee to get me through.” Sansa froze as soon as the words left her mouth, regretting them instantly. Margaery let out a bark of laughter. 

“I like it. Sure, the coffee shop down the street is still open. Caramel macchiato, right?” Sansa nodded and watched Margaery leave, resisting the urge to bang her head against her desk. She knows her coffee order?? Sansa could cry. 

As the sky grew dark outside the office, Sansa and Margaery traded quips over emails and stubborn donors until Sansa could barely hold her eyes open. “That’s it for me, I think,” she announced, stretching back in her chair with her arms to the sky. Margaery glanced over before quickly looking back at her desk. 

“I should probably head out soon too,” she answered. “You live over by Hot Pie’s, right?” Sansa nodded, rapidly losing any surprise that Margaery Tyrell seemed to know everything about her life. 

“Yeah, why?”

“Loras has my car and the only train still running is out of the station over there. I can walk you home if you want the company?” Sansa panicked slightly.

“Sounds good. I’ll be ready to go in about 5 minutes if that works for you?” she squeaked. Margaery just smiled at her, green eyes sparkling. 

The walk to Sansa’s apartment felt like it took a decade, both girls too tired to carry a conversation and Sansa was too busy paying exact attention to how close Margaery’s hand was to her own to try to start something. All too soon, they reached Sansa’s front door and Margaery was standing there, looking gorgeous and slightly windswept. “Thanks for…” Being beautiful? Taking me under your wing and not letting me fail? Making me laugh? Haunting my dreams? Sansa blinked rapidly, trying to clear thoughts out of her head. “Walking me home.”

Margaery scoffed. “No, darling, thank you. I hate doing the walk all the way over here alone, just to get on a train and spend another half hour getting home.” She raised an eyebrow and Sansa felt her face go red. 

“That really sucks.” Margaery stepped back, half turning away. 

“Yeah,” she said with half a smile as she walked away. Sansa couldn’t help but get the feeling she’d done something wrong. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she called after her weakly. No response. 

Suddenly Sansa was very, painfully awake. She dropped her keys into the bowl beside her front door and called her best friend Jeyne Pool, kicking off shoes and stripping off layers as she walked further into her apartment. 

After the situation had been explained, Sansa’s best friend since elementary school could not stop laughing long enough to catch her breath. “Sansa. Sweet, sweet Sansa,” she finally managed to wheeze out. 

“What?” Sansa snapped, clearly she’d missed something big. 

“She wanted you to invite her in,” Jeyne explained, slowly like she was explaining something to a particularly stubborn toddler. Sansa stood in the middle of her living room staring at Lady. 

“What?” she finally asked. “She didn’t. You haven’t even met her.”

“You’re right. But I know 87 Margaery Tyrells and honey, I promise you, she was angling for an invite.” Sansa ran through the evening again, focusing on every accidental hand brush and lingering gaze. 

“Fuck.”

“Exactly, dear.” 

“But I don’t want a hookup, Jeyne. I really, really like her,” Sansa protested, making laps around her living room in her panic. “And beyond that, we work together and if something happened I couldn’t get away from it until Election Day!”

“I don’t know what to tell you. Sleep with the pretty lady or wait and see what happens. There’s no real solution here.” Sansa sighed. 

“Thanks for the help. Truly. Invaluable advice.” She could hear Jeyne roll her eyes through the phone. 

“I’m sorry! I just don’t see how the girl you have a massive fucking crush wanting to sleep with you is a bad thing. You’re Sansa Stark. You graduated with honors from one of the most prestigious programs at KLU all while maintaining various jobs and, frankly, an intense social life. One girl cannot take you down.”

“I hate this.” 

“I got that.”

“Fuck,” Sansa groaned again. “We have a fundraiser church thing in the morning and I need to go to bed.”

“Then go to bed? Dream of your girl and deal with it tomorrow,” Jeyne advised. Sansa closed her eyes, leaning back against her couch. 

“I guess. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Good night, dear.” 

Sansa arrived at headquarters the next morning to find Robb and Podrick on their way out the door. “Good morning?” she started, silenced by the door closing behind them. It was too early to question her brother. Tyrion looked up from his computer with a smirk. 

“Old ladies at the church are giving the first volunteers a hard time. Robb and Pod went to go give them hell, so to speak,” he explained. Sansa rolled her eyes. Margaery’s/her email must not have worked. 

“When will people learn that 16 year old interns cannot, in fact, defend every facet of our platform?” Tyrion shook his head and Sansa sat down at her desk to answer emails until they needed to leave for the event. 

An hour later, she was in the back of Brienne’s car between Myrcella Lannister and Renly Baratheon, legs almost folded against her chest. “Someone please tell me why I’m in the middle of the backseat?” 

“Newbie gets the bitch seat,” Renly answered with a blinding grin. Sansa rolled her eyes. 

“Bite me.” 

“Children, don’t make me turn this car around,” Brienne interrupted from the driver’s seat. Sansa couldn’t stop herself from laughing. She’d been with the campaign for less than a month and they already felt a bit like family. The vague desperation in the air at all times did nothing if not bring people together. 

The park next to the church hosting the fundraiser was surprisingly full, even though the event hadn’t actually started yet. Sansa recognized quite a few Starks and other relations scattered throughout the crowd and one particular head of dark curls, but Robb was the one waving enthusiastically at her, giving her the perfect excuse to avoid Margaery. “Hey! I need your help,” he half-shouted as soon as she was within hearing distance. 

“What’s up?” she asked, smiling at Pod beside him. 

“I can’t leave this exact spot or all of our pamphlets will be replaced with those advertising the Seven and I said I’d direct the volunteers. Can you go?” he pleaded. Crazy old ladies. 

“Sure. Over here?” she answered, pointing towards the long white table set up by the entrance. Robb nodded and Sansa strode over to the pack of teenagers in Targaryen t-shirts. 

“Good afternoon, lovely interns,” she called, scanning for familiar faces. Lyanna Mormont, an old family friend attending a boarding school in town, was standing next to Bran. “What are you doing here?” 

“Volunteering, if someone will give us instruction,” Bran snarked. Sansa took a breath.

“Anyway. If you could all take a clipboard from the table behind you, you’ll find voter registration forms pre-highlighted for your convenience. Have people fill out those lines and keep the completed forms on the back of the clipboard and we’ll get them this evening. Even if they think they’re registered, make sure they haven’t moved since the last election,” she rattled off. Brienne’s biggest rule was that everyone knows the voter registration and canvas spiels by heart for circumstances such as this. Sansa smiled and clapped her hands. “Go forth and register voters, and if you have any questions, feel free to grab any of us and we’ll be happy to help!” 

Bran dispersed with the other volunteers and interns and Sansa started mingling, thanking familiar donors and introducing herself to the others. It was hot and tedious work, but it kept her away from Margaery and having to deal with that situation and by the time the event was closing down, they’d hit their fundraising goal and Sansa was officially free to fall asleep on her couch without remembering to take her contacts out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and leave kudos! It's good encouragement, I swear. It's good to know that there's a reason I'm still updating this other than my own stubbornness.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, please leave a comment/complaint/suggestion if you have any! This won't be endless, but I have a pretty decent-sized story to tell, so conversations would be greatly appreciated!


End file.
